Page 23 - Firehouse Pond

THE LOCAL COTTON GIN

and
CORN PROCESSING PLANT

CORN COBS PILED TO THE SKY

Billy Joe (BJ) is the only early childhood friend I can recall. He was also
from a very poor family. As I recall his father was strict but did not drink.
BJ was “a little strange” he was mentally retarded. In those days it was not
unacceptable to call him a “retard.” I knew in my heart that it was not nice

and never called him a retard. I accepted him as he was, and he accepted me
as I was. We were good friends.

BJ loved to play Cowboys and Indians. He had his six-shooter pistol and
wore his sheriff’s badge with pride. It was his job and mission to protect the
town’s children.

There was a group of boys that would play together. I never heard any of the
boys refer to or call BJ a retard. They treated him as an equal. We all liked

to go to the local cotton gin and corn processing plant. We would climb the
corn cob piles playing king of the mountain.

We were unaware, therefore, unafraid of the dangers. The cobs would shift;

we would be knocked down and covered with the corn cobs.

Little boys playing; having fun, and not at all concerned what the future

would bring. BJ remained in Charleston. I moved away with my mother
when I was about nine years old.